


The Vessels of Chaos and Order

by BalloonArcade, ntldr



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Atheism, Cult(ure) Shock, Cults, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Religious Fanaticism, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-23 04:51:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11982537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalloonArcade/pseuds/BalloonArcade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntldr/pseuds/ntldr
Summary: There was little that the twins remembered of life before the Covenant of Primus, except for the day that they were brought to the temple."...for the gods of Chaos and Order shall live on forever and ever, and in each generation they shall be reborn into mortal vessels.  Blessed by Primus and Unicron accordingly, the vessels shall guide the balance of Cybertron, stabilizing the peace and unity of the multi-verse, gifting us all with the great powers held within them.  Rejoice, for they have been found!"They remembered the cheers of the crowds outside of the temple, and trying to look at them through the windows before they were spotted by a guard and whisked back into the inner sanctum.





	1. The Blessing of a Prime

**Author's Note:**

> You know what'll get me to _not_ progress on 'Iacon Legacy?' Another story! :D
> 
> This is NOT set in the same universe as 'Iacon Prophecy' or 'Iacon Legacy.' And this is actually BalloonArcade's brainchild; I'm just banging it out.

A single torch, held aloft, was dropped into the bowl-shaped pyre. As soon as it had caught and lit the material within it, the other priests took their cue to ignite their own pyres as well similarly, until the square, open floor that they had surrounded was illuminated properly to see the two cloaked mechs standing at their center, facing the dais where the high priest stood.

The temple did have modern lights, of course. But not here. Not in this room.

There was a certain _decorum_ that needed to be upheld.

Sideswipe hated it. But he knew better than to say anything about it.

Mimicking his twin, he stood at the ready with him, the two mechs standing shoulder-to-shoulder, their heads bowed slightly forward to hide their optics underneath their hoods, as they’d been trained to do for nearly all their lives. He heard Sunstreaker’s ventilations match time with his own, the two of them preparing their frames for the ritual, but outwardly showing themselves as nothing more than highly disciplined soldiers, the mortal perfection of a pair of gods. Nothing less than that was acceptable of them, not if the balance of Cybertron was to be maintained.

The high priest announced them, then went through the introductions and prayers that Sideswipe had heard a million times over. He was immediately bored and let his cortex wander, though he was careful to not move, not even to shift his weight from ped to ped impatiently.

He wondered if any of the priests were as tired of the dogma as he was.

He wondered if one of them was newly promoted, now having the privilege of seeing the vessels of Primus and Unicron for the first time, and terrified that power within them would suddenly unleash.

He wondered if the oldest priests had quietly placed bets on the outcome of the ritual. 

He wondered if anybody else was hungry. The twins were not allowed to refuel for a joor before the ritual, part of their cleansing against any outside interference for when they were channeling their respective deities. Sideswipe’s tanks were grumbling.

There was a nudge at his spark. _/The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can refuel./_

_/Great. Tell the high priest that. I’ll bet that son of a glitch had a snack before he came in here./_

_/If he did, that’s none of our business. Concentrate./_

_/Yeah, yeah, yeah. We both know how this is going to turn out, Sunny./_

_/Shh./_

The high priest continued to drone on and on with his wings raised tightly upright as he commanded the room, speaking of the oversight of the thirteen Primes, even though that number didn’t seem to change no matter how many times Sideswipe and Sunstreaker gave their blessings upon new ones. Only once had Sideswipe been the one to give his blessing, or rather, his _curse,_ and few deca-cycles later they had been back in that city’s temple to yet again choose a new prime. 

Sideswipe guessed that he’d been quietly assassinated.

He wondered if that short-lived Prime had hired the assassin himself.

He wondered if the two mechs waiting somewhere across the temple knew which of them would be championed by Order, and the other by Chaos.

His cortex returned to reality as he heard the final prayer said, and then the high priest waited a beat, staring down at the two vessels from his elevated platform by the main pyre, before clapping his hands in three, precise beats. 

The twins had practiced this many times. Each clap was a footstep for them.

 _Clap._ First foot, turn slightly towards each other. _Clap._ Second foot, now facing each other. _Clap._ First foot again, stamping backwards as they took combat positions, their hoods sliding off as each of them shouldered their cloaks behind them in the same identical motion.

There was another beat of time as the two of them stared each other down, identical blue optics gazing into each other, both hard and determined but never losing that companionship of brotherhood, even when somewhere deep behind those optics lay either the God of Order or the God of Chaos.

The high priest clapped his hands one more time, signalling them to begin.

As one, they reached into their subspace pockets and whipped out a pair of sai, holding them in different favored positions as they began to circle each other, the choreographed motions lost to that of two mech sparing.

Sideswipe couldn’t help a smirk.

_Finally._

This was the part he loved. The part where he was allowed to be _himself._

The part where he could embrace being a force of destruction, and unleash, decorum and dogma be slagged.

It was too bad that the ending had already been written, no matter how good he was. This wasn’t a _true_ ritual, where a decision of the temple would be decided with a clash between Primus and Unicron. There were few times that he’d rebelled against the high priest warning them of how the ritual _should_ conclude, and beaten Sunstreaker, who would think that Unicron really had possessed his brother and would fight him with all that he had. Those always ended with the priests being stunned into silence, taking in the bad omen that had been bestowed on them. 

It was little wonder that the one Prime who had been championed by ‘Unicron’ hadn’t lived long.

But that would be at the end, when they were worn out and ready to end the fight. For now, this was where Sideswipe found his freedom, and slag the Pits if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.

Sunstreaker leapt forward with a battle cry, the sai cutting through the air, and Sideswipe matched him, the clash of weaponry ringing through the chamber.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A pair of guards swung open the doors on the far side of the room that rose nearly all the way to the ceiling, and four more guards escorted the dark blue mech inside. Worried blue optics soon gave way to relief, then pride, and he was so elated that he let a blasphemous _smirk_ paint across his face before he caught himself and wiped it away.

Sideswipe grimaced at the mech from where he was kneeling in the center of the room, defeated, one hand on his knee, the other clenched into a fist behind his back, the gesture one of absolute surrender.

He barely had more than scratches on his paintjob. He hadn’t bothered to try to rebel this time, and instead played his role when asked to pretend that Sunstreaker had thrown him to the ground at held him there with the point of a sai at his throat.

The triumphant Sunstreaker, meanwhile, stood to one side of his twin, his own paintjob also scratched and dented, but his cloak nearly immaculate, its train pooling around his feet. Sideswipe knew how much his brother admired his golden cloak, and tried not to damage it whenever possible.

As the dark blue mech descended into the open space, he took only three more steps forward and dropped to one knee, his head bowed in deference to his champion, the God of Order. The gesture of respect to the vessel was not lost to the priests still surrounding the square where the ritual had taken place, and they applauded, then instantly stopped as Sunstreaker stepped forward.

A golden hand lay down on the top of the mech’s head, and the blue mech shivered, likely in exhilaration to such an honor, to have been chosen and touched by a living god, and he stayed silent and kept his optics down as Sunstreaker spoke, his voice loud enough to be heard by all.

“Primus has smiled upon you and blessed you this orn. He has battled the forces of darkness and evil in order to secure your appointment to the balance of the universe. You are to be his messenger in the realm of mortals. Act always in the wisdom of his guiding light.”

“I am your servant, Primus,” the mech replied, staying perfectly on script. “My spark is honored by your blessing.”

“On this orn, you have been raised above the common Cybertronians, and when you become one with the All-Spark you will be seated at Primus’s right hand. Rejoice, for you will become one of the few to hold this acclaim.”

Sideswipe resisted the urge to snort. That was a lie. Primus apparently had an awful lot of right hands if everyone that Sunstreaker blessed was seated there.

The last time Sideswipe had blessed someone, the mech’s optics had been filled with fluid and he looked ready to plead for mercy.

Sunstreaker took a step back as he lifted his hand away. “Arise, Zeta Prime. May your footsteps always lead you upon the path of creation and light.”


	2. The Curse of Unicron

The magnetic sleds ran smoothly along the city street, and the passengers within the transport barely felt that their vehicle was moving at all. The buildings and crowds that glided past the darkened windows were their only indication of their speed, which on this particular orn wasn’t very fast at all, not when they were part of a celebratory procession. As slow as they were going, never did they stop. Nothing was to stand in their way.

Sunstreaker liked that they were being admired for the safety of dimmed windows, four walls, and a roof.

Sideswipe felt like they were trapped in a box.

The two of them sat side-by-side on plush pillows at the center of the vehicle, surrounded by their usual entourage of guards and attendants during a procession. Outside they could hear the steady _stamp, stamp, stamp_ of more guards keeping away those who would try to run up and peer inside, desperate to see more of the vessels of Primus and Unicron than just shadows for those who were not of the right class.

The twins purposely kept their hoods up and sat regally anyway. The high priest _wanted_ this image to be seen by those who had the credits and determination to try to take a picture of the vessels with high-powered cameras. He wanted the planet to know that there really were two mechs sitting within, two living gods who oversaw Cybertron’s mortal affairs.

Sideswipe huffed air impatiently, making the dark veil hiding the lower parts of his face under his optics billow.

The cheers and shouts of the crowds lining the streets droned on and on. Sideswipe wasn’t sure if this was even for _them._ At the front of the procession, after all, was the newly minted Zeta Prime, waving to the citizens of Praxus as he joined the Covenant of Primus on their way to secure the city’s temple and ensure that the stability between Order and Chaos was maintained. 

But then again, Sunstre-- _Primus_ had chosen him to be the new Prime. Of course they were cheering from him as well.

And for Unicron too, because they didn’t dare rouse his ire.

He heard them, but Sideswipe wanted to _see_ them. He tried turning his head to see the side-window more clearly beyond the hood of his cloak.

The glass was still dark even on his side, but he could just about make out the crowds at a distance, gathered on the curb, yelling and clapping their hands and smiling at where they guessed that the vessels lay within--

An armored shoulder blocked his view.

Sideswipe grimaced at the guard, only seen by him by his narrowed optics, but the guard returned his look with an impassive one almost as bad as what was constantly painted on the attendants’ faces as he pulled the blinds on the nearest window closed, shuttering any views in or out. 

_/Aft. I didn’t even take off my hood. No one could see me./_

_/It’s not about them seeing you, but you seeing them./_ Sunstreaker’s spark was pulsing a serene, pleased calm from being admired at a comfortable length from the common masses. _/We aren’t in the temple. Chaos longs to escape and to wreck havoc upon the planet, and without the temple’s walls to help you to control your urges and with the citizens of Cybertron within your sight.../_

Sideswipe’s response was to lift himself slightly from the pillow seat, rev up his engine slightly, and let off some exhaust. The tassels on the pillow fluttered.

Sunstreaker jerked forward, caught off guard, and sputtered at his twin, unintentionally verbalizing out loud instead of over their bond.

“Are you...did you just--?!”

“And you’re stuck right here with me until this procession ends,” Sideswipe declared, sitting back down and raising his chin up high, his optics still hidden under the hood.

“You slagging piece of--”

“ _Ahem.”_

The both startled upright at one of their closest bodyguards, the ones who had been blessed and _could_ touch them, as he cleared his vocalizer. Sunstreaker pulsed irritation at his twin over their bond as they both shut their mouths.

_/Thanks a lot, Sideswipe. Now we’re going to hear about this from the high priest./_

Sideswipe ‘scoffed’ over their bond. _/So? When we get there, he’s going to smell it long before the guard tells him about it./_

He couldn’t see his brother’s face, but he knew that underneath the veil, Sunstreaker was smirking just as wickedly as he was.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The well-oiled doors barely made a sound as they split open, but the _clack, clack, clack_ of the high priest’s peds storming across the geometric designs drawn into the polished floor was more than enough to get their attention. Sideswipe leaned his helm backwards over the arm of the couch where he’d been refueling, several fingers wrapped around a thin flute of brightly-glowing pink energon, and Sunstreaker perked up from where he’d been scribbling on his drawing pad while seated on a pillow on the floor beside him.

“Up, both of you.” The high priest’s cultured elegance had vanished now that there was no one watching him but the attendants of the temple. The tall, skinny mech snapped his long fingers once towards each of them. “Up. You are needed to perform your rites.”

Sideswipe’s engine growled. “This is our scheduled free time!”

“Your schedule has been adjusted. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a historic day for Cybertron, and it would not do to have you two shut away to lounge about like the pair of conceited younglings you are!”

“Speaking of conceited--” Sunstreaker grumbled as he got up. Several attendants who had been standing at attention at one side now scurrying up to take the drawing pad and adjust his thick, golden cloak. Draping down past his ankles, it dragged partly on the floor, the train of cloth following him wherever he went. Sideswipe, however, glowered at the high priest as he stared at him, still upside-down.

“What if I don’t want to? What’re you going to do? Draw Unicron’s ire?” He lifted his free black hands and wiggled his fingers. “Oooo. I can feel the dark energon around my spark pulsing. Oooo--GAH!”

His hands were swatted down, and then his world twisted as the high priest grabbed his shoulder and tugged him up to stand. Almost immediately there were attendents’ claws on him too: steadying him, taking the flute before it spilled, adjusting his own red cloak, checking his plating for damage from the high priest’s rough handling, and then polishing out his finger marks. 

There were few on Cybertron allowed to touch the vessels of Primus and Unicron. 

Their personal guards were exceptions, after they’d been blessed and mandated to act to protect the vessels from harm, including that coming from themselves and _within_ themselves. The high priest was an exception because he was a prophet of the Covenant and thus incorruptible by the forces that the split-spark twins battled daily. The attendants were exceptions because they had been reconstructed so that they could not _be_ corrupted.

The technical prods of their claws on his armor and the unblinking stares of their single optics upon his own had never sat right with Sideswipe. He’d learned to ignore them and pretend that they were no more sentient than the walls of the temple where they stood until needed.

“Do _not_ joke about such matters of heresy!” The high priest released Sideswipe, but still hovered inches away from his face, his dentals bared as he sneered down at him. He looked as if he’d scream something else, but paused a moment, then lowered his voice slightly as he hissed. “You are inviting Unicron’s influence into a space suitable for him. Would you put all of Cybertron at risk for a _joke?!”_

“Wiggling my fingers and going ‘oooo’ isn’t going to hurt anyone--”

“It’s sets a precedence for yourself! You are a living frame for a _god_ walking among Cybertronians, so act like it!” The mech scoffed as he turned away, throwing his hands up as he did. “And then next you’ll complain to me that you cannot attend the Prime’s festival, when your behavior is so appalling.”

...There was a…

Sideswipe’s faceplate lit up, and he moved to chase down the high priest.

“There’s a festi--!!”

A golden hand clapped over his mouth.

“Shh.” Sunstreaker’s blue eyes were narrowed. “Let’s just _go._ There’s no point in arguing for something that won’t--”

Sideswipe pushed his twin's hand and shouted at the retreating high priest. "Why can't we leave the temple for it? Just for the festival. Send the guards with us!”

The high priest gave Sideswipe a severe look over the top of his left wing. "I resist the temptation of Chaos and Unicron's vessel on Cybertron. That is Unicron inside of you attempting to be free. _Sideswipe_ knows better. Chaos and Order _must_ be contained in the temples with particular ceremonies for the two of you to perform the rites at each vein site. Only then can peace and harmony remain in our world!"

"So we can never see the peace and harmony we bring?"

“You shall see it by the quality of the Primes who are chosen to lead Cybertron. Zeta will lead us into an age of wisdom and dignity, unlike some _other_ Primes who have been chosen before him.”

The jab dug deep, and it shut Sideswipe up at the same time that it made his spark burn in a hatred rage for his mistake, his _existence._

...Or was that Unicron’s influence, angry that his manipulations hadn’t worked for more than a few deca-cycles?

 _/Sideswipe, c’mon,/_ his twin pleaded with him over their bond, a nurturing _comfort_ pulsing towards him to soothe out the wrathful flames.

A comfort from _Primus,_ guiding the unlucky vessel who had the ‘honor’ of keeping the universe balanced.

Sideswipe bit his lip. _/Whatever./_

His hands batted away the attendants as he flipped up the hood of his cloak himself, covering his helm and the top portion of his faceplates, and at his side, Sunstreaker did the same for his own golden cloak.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Only those privileged to lay optics on the vessels of Chaos and Order were allowed into the inner temple, so despite the crowds that could be heard building outside, there was little chance an _unworthy_ was going to see them. However, the twins kept their hoods up as they entered the ley line chamber, protocol dictating they continue to play by their roles from the moment they were taken from their private chambers, to the moment that the doors were locked behind them once again.

Those protocols had been broken before over the vorns, primarily due to Chaos’s influence over Sideswipe, but as he matured and his abilities grew stronger, he was realizing the terrible power that he held within himself, and he tried to keep those urges under control.

Mostly.

Despite the long joors of meditation that the high priest put him through, Sideswipe still wasn’t sure where the dividing line lay between him wanting to be _himself_ and Unicron seeping into his spark’s decisions. The high priest before this one had insisted that the twins’ sparks were separate from the entities that also held residence inside their frames, but this mech’s interpretation of the Covenant had been different. Sideswipe wasn’t sure if there was a _Sideswipe_ at all. Perhaps he wasn’t just a vessel, but the literal reincarnation of Unicron himself.

But if that was the case, then he had no hope of control. Sideswipe _had_ to exist, because Unicron certainly wasn’t going to restrain his own powers.

Their synched footsteps echoed as one as they crossed the room, and Sideswipe heard the rustling of plating as those who were not part of the vessels’ regular entourage dropped and knelt before them, unworthy optics staring down at the floor. Sideswipe didn’t look at any of them, instead focusing on where he was to take his place in front of an empty pedestal to the left side of the high priest, Sunstreaker in front of another pedestal at his right. The three of them stood before the assembled crowd, which was slightly larger than normal for this ritual because of the involved celebration of their new Prime in the city that he’d chosen to reside for his tenure. 

He saw Zeta Prime cross his arms and frown, already bored, while the head priest clapped his hands once and then raised them towards the crowd. “Arise! Stand, and bask in the honor and glory of this holiest of orns!”

There was another shuffle as the mechs and femmes that maintained the temples or had been invited by Zeta scrambled to their feet. Sideswipe kept his line of sight straight ahead at the far wall, his hood hid most of his face in shadows, his pair of glowing blue optics would dominate what they would see. If these had truly been _unworthies,_ he’d have more robes covering his body and the veil, like when he’d be transported across the cities and to this one’s temple. For now, and for this ritual, his cloak and hood was plenty enough to warn those assembled of his power within the Covenant.

The high priest continued: “Your new Prime has decided to bestow upon you, City of Praxus, renewed gifts from the vessels of Chaos and Order to maintain the balance of the temple’s ley line! You are to be honored, Praxus, for not all cities will be presented this gift! For your patronage and efforts towards maintaining the peace and stability of Cybertron through the Covenant of Primus, I present to you...the living vessels of Primus and Unicron!”

On cue as the high priest dropped his hands towards them and to the mental beat of _‘one, two, three,’_ the twins stomped one step forward, knelt on their other leg and smacked their knuckles against the floor. The echo of their coordinated motion resounded through the chamber like a clap of thunder. Sideswipe knew from experience that the sound alone would make some of the assembled Cybertronian’s sparks quiver. He heard them gasp and shrink back, and others dropped back down to their knees with muttered prayers as foreheads touched the ground.

There was little reason to care about them, timorous and unable to handle the weight of the imperium within the room. The only ones of concern were those powerful enough to know they had no reason to be afraid of the Convent’s display of might.

The vessels of gods were not allowed to be, in any way, shape or form, _weak._

And yet, there were those who were stronger. They didn’t think that they were able to keep the vessels under mortal control, they _knew_ that they could.

The vessels of Order and Chaos kept their heads bowed towards the group, hiding their faces from those not worthy to look upon them, and showing deference to those who were. Optics bored into them, assessing them, and Sideswipe had to fight to not flare his plating to prove that his frame was strong enough to handle his duty when under such scrutiny by the Prime and his entourage.

The head priest waited a breem for the crowd to appreciate the power being shown to them before clapping his hands three times in the same beat that the twins were used to, the first to ready them, the second to pull their back leg towards themselves, the third to stand. Another short pause for the crowd to understand how disciplined the Covenant’s prophet kept the vessels. He’d explained to the twins why such training was required for them to perform rites when they were young, and now, as adults and fully upgraded, they never questioned him in public.

The head priest swept his right hand forward, and Sunstreaker following the motion instantly, his golden cloak flowing in a train behind him as he glided into place at the center of the room.

Sideswipe held perfectly still and waited, watching as the front of the crowds withered back from Order’s vessel, as they should. He sent a quick pulse along their bond, strengthening his twin for what was to come. A second pulse returned to him quickly, thanking him, and then the bond narrowed slightly as Sunstreaker focused and concentrated.

This rite had to be performed perfectly to be successful. The last thing that they would need was for Unicron to _feel_ his own twin while Sunstreaker was working, and interfere.

Several attendants stepped forward, seeming to melt out from their places at the walls, completely impassive to the unusual size of the audience in the ritual chambers as they placed thirteen short pillars in a semi-circle before Sunstreaker, the thirteenth abruptly closer to him than the rest, and Sunstreaker pretended to ignore them as they worked. Upon each pillar was placed a crystal tridecagon, large enough to be cradled in a mech’s forearms, except for the one closest to Sunstreaker. On that one was placed an ornate box, and as soon as it was set down, Sunstreaker genuflected to it, staying on one knee long after the attendants had finished and returned to their positions along the wall.

The vessel of Order allowed himself a moment to ventilate, preparing himself, and then he raised himself back to his feet and slowly opened the box. The lid was pulled back enough for him to see inside of it, but not the assembled crowd.

There was little reason for them to see it until the item was prepared for the ritual.

Satisfied with it, Sunstreaker left the lid open, braced himself, then moved his hands into position around his chestplate. Both hands curled into the top and bottom of a circle. One was leveled to mimic the top half of where his spark chamber would be, the other at it’s bottom. 

There was a low rumble as the priests of the temple began to sing Primus’s song of prayer, their voices carrying through the lower octaves, and then higher as they assisted Sunstreaker with his concentration. All optics were on the golden mech. Watching him. Willing him to mold himself into the vessel Primus needed him to be in order to complete the ritual. 

Sideswipe nearly pulsed at him again, but stopped himself; Sunstreaker needed to concentrate, and right now a very _mortal_ act would be more interruptive than assistive. 

At the chorus of the song of prayer, Sunstreaker lifted his head up, and allowed his chestplates to pull back behind his curled hands, bearing inner machinery and wiring to those watching. A second later, a blue light glowed out as a second set of plating retracted, focused into a circular beam by the hands around it. 

As often as they performed this ritual, Sideswipe still prickled at the strange optics staring at the light of his brother’s spark. The spark of one strong enough to enshrine the light of Primus.

A light that glowed forth into the box, projecting upon its contents, until there was a flash within it, followed by a smaller but sharper glow than what would come from the perfection of a spark. Sunstreaker let his hands fall to his sides as he closed his spark chamber and chestplates, staring down at the box for a few more beats before walking forward to it and pulling the lid back completely.

The crystal tridecagon within, freshly harvested from one of the temple’s gardens and much smaller than the ones on the pedestals, shone iridescently, energized by the pure light of Sunstreaker’s spark. For a brief time it would harbor a piece of Primus as well, trapped inside and to eventually burn out, but the purity of the crystal would ensure that it lasted just long enough to complete the ceremony. It was small enough that Sunstreaker could easily pick it up and carry it in one palm, and he did so, carrying with reverence and his other hand clapped around it for protection as he walked to the right and to the next closest pedestal.

The smaller tridecagon was extended and touched against the larger one on the pedestal. Sunstreaker waited, and Sideswipe saw him narrow his optics as he concentrated, willing the piece of him and Primus combined to transfer the energy again, until the large tridecagon began to glow as well. Instead of being iridescent, though, this one turned into a deep, rich blue color, heavy and yet in no way melancholy, not with what it signified, what it had been _transformed_ into by Primus. The color was reflected upon Sunstreaker’s face as he stared down into it, considering it before he moved on and touched Primus’s crystal on the next one, alighting it with an aquamarine color.

He repeated this for each of the crystals, one by one. Each glowed a different color, the twelve different identities along with the iridescent fulcrum clear to the audience. The song continued on and on, ringing in Sideswipe’s audials, ancient words that called upon Primus’s power and praised him at such a low octave, he felt as if his frame was shuddering under the intensity. 

Sunstreaker’s long cloak trailed behind him as he transferred energy to the last tridecagon, this one now glowing a violet color akin to the step before the first one if the twelve crystals had been set in a wheel instead of a semi-circle. The beauty of the twelve crystals overwhelmed some in the chamber. Their prayers began rapidly again, asking for the forgiveness of the original Primes for their mortal sparks.

Zeta Prime’s optics, however, were only for Sunstreaker. 

Sideswipe bristled again.

For _that_ there was another pulse in his spark, cooling and comforting him as Sunstreaker widened their bond once more, satisfied he’d performed the ritual correctly and maintained the Order that the temple contained. His own optics only met Zeta’s briefly, and _something_ zapped through the bond before Sunstreaker squashed it down and continued walking steadily back to the head priest. Directly in front of him he genuflected again, bowing his head as he showed him Primus’s crystal, evidence of his successful rite, and at the same time the song of prayer was coming to a close, he stood once more and reverently placed the crystal upon his own pedestal. 

The golden cloak trailed around his legs as he turned to face the room once more, and Sideswipe didn’t miss the small tug he made on the side so that the cloth flowed around him, making him to appear even more regal. 

Sideswipe had teased him for practicing such a move, but Sunstreaker had _insisted,_ wanting to use even something as simple his cloak to look his best.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once the rites of Primus were completed, the head priest gestured forward with his left hand, and this time it was Sideswipe who followed the motion and stepped forward. Reflecting the exact same movements and postures from his twin a few breems ago, he came closer to the assembled crowds, fighting off the smirk that wanted to grow when he saw some of them shudder back, afraid. He channeled that respect for power in the same way that Sunstreaker did and kept his back straight and his head high until he approached the fire bowl and pedestal that were being placed for him by the attendants, the thirteen pedestals that had been for the rites of the vessel of Primus removed.

Now it was Unicron’s turn to balance the ley line.

Sideswipe circled the firebowl set on the ground, ignoring it for now, and waited in front of the pedestal, immediately kneeling as soon as an attendant placed down an ornate box similar to what Sunstreaker had just blessed. His thoughts focused inward, and he narrowed the bond with his brother as he concentrated.

The vessels of gods were not allowed to be, in any way, shape or form, _weak._

He wasn’t stronger than the power within him, but this was his frame, _his_ spark, and he was _not_ Unicron itself, simply a vessel for the god, a mortal visage of him but only if Unicron’s _will_ overcame him. Sideswipe could channel and focus that power to maintain the balance of the world between Chaos and Order. He could use Unicron’s power without letting him overcome him.

He could do this.

He could do this.

He was _not weak._

He took a deep ventilation, strengthening himself, and then stood. The ornate box beckoned, and as he opened the lid and peered inside. The temple had done its job and this would be suited to temporarily wield his power, but at the same time he felt the dark stirrings of Unicron within him as a perfect tridecagon glimmered up to tempt him.

The vessels of gods were _not weak._

He’d meditated for countless joors, strengthening his cortex and spark against Unicron’s whispers. He’d excelled in all of his fitness and combat training, and the only one who could best him was Unicron’s own match, Primus. His body was the prison that kept Unicron in check, and he needed to have all the strength available to a warden who was simply mortal. The rare _unworthy_ who managed to pierce the temple’s defenses would always fall in shock as Sideswipe proved himself to be just as terrifying as the god living inside of him.

He was not weak.

He was not _weak._

He was the vessel of Unicron. And there was Chaos to be focused and maintained.

Unicron’s tendrils continued to weave their way around his spark as he gazed down at the crystal, but he was more than satisfied with it. It would do as he pleased, for now.

The dozens of low growls filling his audials had gone unnoticed until he took a step back from the box and realized they were not coming from Unicron’s essence, but from the priests in the chambers, singing Unicron’s song of prayer. Unlike Primus’, this always stayed at lower tones, as sinister and primal as the god himself, drawing the dark essence further out of Sideswipe as they called him into their realm.

Sideswipe braced himself, his feet planted firmly on the tiled floor, then moved his hands into position around his chestplate, forming the circle of a perfect spark above his chestplate.

The head priest had told him to prepare for a _crawling_ feeling in his lines, the ugly sensation of something that wasn’t himself trying to take control. His tanks churned, wanting to purge out whatever was creeping around within his frame, within his spark, but he had been trained and prepared for this.

He was Not. _WEAK._

His chestplates slid aside, and a macro-second later there was a warning on his HUD as he override the protocols meant to keep his spark from being exposed to the outside world. The Chaos was meant to be kept inside of him, within the prison his frame created. But, just for now, just for a short time, controlled and chained by rigid doctrine and meditation, Unicron could be used to balance the world.

Sideswipe adjusted the positioning of his hands, tightening the beam of light emanating out from within him, ignoring the wide-optic stares of the assembled mechs and femmes staring right into the core of his being, ignoring how his cloak fluttered at his shoulders under the immense power coming not just from any mech’s spark, but that of a _vessel._ Before him, the tridecagon absorbed the light, gaining a piece of Sideswipe’s spark, gaining a piece of _Chaos._

When it flashed, now glowing under its own borrowed power, Sideswipe immediately closed up his spark chamber, sealing away any chance of Unicron’s escape. He had to fight himself to not move forward immediately, as if some unworthy or blasphemour were going to suddenly burst into the temple to steal the crystal and do horrible things upon the world; deviating from the gestures and movements that he’d practiced could give Unicron a chance to act upon that tiny bit of chaos and worm his way to the surface. Sideswipe knew that his fuel pump was quickening faster than anyone else in the audience as he and they waited for his chestplates to slip closed before he could step forward and reverently lift the tridecagon crystal out of the box. 

And this was where his rites differed from his twin’s. Keeping the tridecagon cradled close to his chest where it would be safest, he turned his back on the audience, and retreated. As he passed the firebowl, he stopped, paused, and, following the previous instructions of the high priest, looked back and contemplated the bowl.

He’d been told that if there was any fault in the temple’s workmanship, he’d see it right away, but he _must_ look for it. 

He saw none. The bowl was magnificently crafted, yet sturdy and heavy, perfect for his needs. The inside had been dusted with several metals which would assist with the blessing of what needed to be done. A little help just in case this didn’t have the proper desired effect, the high priest had told him. 

Just like if the twins happened to pick the wrong Prime, Sideswipe grimaced to himself, before focusing and concentrating. This wasn’t about choosing a figurehead, this rite was _important._ What was a little insurance when the alternative was Chaos’ escape?

Those in the audience who did not know what was about to happen gasped and cried out as Sideswipe suddenly spun on his heel, his cloak snapping around him as he lifted the crystal tridecagon blazing with Unicron’s power high above his head, and smashed into down into the center of the firebowl. To them, this _was_ the escape of Chaos, and some of them looked ready to sprint out of the far doors and take cover...where? If Unicron took control over a frame like Sideswipe’s, there would be no place to run.

They needn’t have worried.

The shattering of energy within the crystal caused a small explosion of light and sparks within the firebowl. It was as short and loud as a gunshot. Smoke erupted and swirled out of the bowl, billowing upward in heavy sheets, a column drifting up like a tower towards the chamber’s ceiling where it expanded and dissipated before it could damage the structure.

The smoke would have scalded the armor of any mech who touched it. Any mech, however, but the vessel of the God of Chaos.

Sideswipe swung his hands directly into the center of the column, then spread them out, smoke clinging and wrapping around his fingers and wrists until they were swung out in curls mimicking the arms of some giant smoke creature. Another hand motion, and the smoke began to obey him, began to be _molded_ and _painted_ into the being that was entirely under Sideswipe’s control. 

The motions and slight curves and points of his fingers had been heavily practiced, each sign holding meaning. During the ritual Sideswipe was free to perform them in any order he wished, depending on how much energy the broken crystal had given to the smoke form of Unicron’s power. His entire body flowed with the same motions, allowing him to concentrate on his frame’s own strength and crafting, each movement from pose to pose slow and calculating and rippling energy through his servos. The hissing whispers of Unicron were stronger than ever when he did this, and yet he kept the chaos firmly imprisoned as he redirected the power within him to balance the Order that Sunstreaker had embedded into the ley line.

As he worked, the smoke began to change colors. First a dark blue, then an aquamarine, none ever clear, all hazy as they were eclipsed by the shadows of darkness attempting to strangle them out, but with Sideswipe’s help they were managing to break through, stopping the Chaos from overwhelming the Order. Unicron’s ritual was nowhere near as beautiful as Primus’s, he knew that, but it was still a spectacular sight to behold.

There was no rhythm to the song that the priests were growling, yet Sideswipe’s body felt as if it were moving through a dance that only he could hear. His cloak flowed around him as he swung a hand back, bracing himself, gritting his dentals before he slashed his hand forward, cutting right through the smoke and making it change direction abruptly. The audience gasped, startled, and watched with an awed reverence as Unicron’s anger was quickly abated back into a slow-moving smoke column that his vessel could shape and contort.

The smoke was moving from an orange color into a deeper red when it happened.

There should have only been one explosion when the crystal’s powers were first released. 

There was another.

Sparks billowed out over the sides with a sharp _crack,_ and several mechs cried out in terror. Sideswipe nearly added his voice to the commotion, stopping himself at the last second and whirling his hands around themselves as he tried to regain control as the smoke suddenly became a much harsher and thick _black._

He could all but hear Unicron’s voice in his head. _Let me out, little mortal, let me out, let me out, let me out…_

Sideswipe pulled his lips back into a sneer as he focused and shaped the smoke back into what he wanted it to be, a form that would connect with the ley line, a form that would _help_ the world, not harm it. He didn’t want to harm the world! Despite the voice, despite everything within him that would try to wreck havoc on Cybertron, he wouldn’t…

The black color abated, becoming a more serene violet, cooler and calling upon one of the ancient Primes for assistance. The escape attempt had been diverted and crushed. But that didn’t mean Sideswipe’s fuel pump hadn’t stopped pounding hard against his plating.

As the color changed once more into a blue, the smoke quickly thinned, then ended, becoming nothing more than random swirls of energy that would no longer be helpful to the ritual. Yet it was not yet done. His manipulations now ending, Sideswipe let his hands return to his sides as he straightened, then, once the smoke had cleared enough, took a knee and scooped some of the remains of the broken crystal into his cupped palm.

No one else would have been able to touch these until they cooled. But to Sideswipe, they were no more dangerous than several hundred tiny sharp edges that might prick at his joints.

...It could have been so much worse. 

As he turned back towards his starting position and his pedestal, he tried to not acknowledge the severe but worried look that the head priest was giving him before he genuflected and showed the winged mech the broken pieces of crystal. Not a word was said to him as he rose and worked his way around the head priest, fighting to not to let his head droop. At the same time that he carefully placed the shattered bits on the top of his pedestal as evidence of his preservation of the ley line, the bond between him and his twin opened up again.

_/Are you alright?!/_

_/I’m fine./_ He could feel his spark quivering inside of his spark chamber, and he tried not to let the fear show on his faceplates as he turned back around to face the assembled mechs and femmes. _/He tried to overwhelm me. I pushed him back down./_

But he’d almost failed. Unicron could have unleashed more Chaos than that split-second show of energy if he’d wanted to.

The vessels were not allowed to be _weak._

Shame curtled around his spark, and his hands squeezed into tight fists at his sides as the high priest stepped forward to proclaim the success of the ritual and to give the final blessings.

**Author's Note:**

> Who could the high priest be, I wonder?
> 
> A hint: It's not Prowl.


End file.
